


Long May She Reign

by snowstcrm



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Redemption, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowstcrm/pseuds/snowstcrm
Summary: Daenerys had always set her eyes on the Iron Throne when she had been destined for something far greater from the start. With a second chance at life, the Targaryen queen decides to abandon Westeros and sets her focus on the origins of her ancestors. She woke dragons from stone and she would raise an empire from ancient ruins.





	1. Prologue: A New Song

The first thing she felt was pain. **  
**

Her body wrought with it, a searing pain shooting from her chest outward that felt hotter than any fire she had bathed in. She wanted to groan out in agony but even that required strength she did not have. She could not even will her eyes to open and that was when fear began to set in the pit of her belly.

Where was she? What had happened? Was she alone? Was she dead?

A powerful rumble broke through her panic and filled her ears then, a comforting familiar sound that put her at ease. Perhaps… yes… it was Drogon.

Whatever strength she had briefly found began to fade once more, and the last thing she registered was the whispers of a woman in the Valyrian tongue as her consciousness faded.

> _She was in deep, thick waters. The heavy weight of the liquid pulling her down, wanting to drag her into the abyss where she would disappear for eternity. It was unbearable. She felt too tired to fight it and she had given into it, accepting the nothingness if it meant she could just rest. It had almost taken her completely when a light shone above the surface of the murky water, growing brighter and brighter until she could see that it was a blazing fire reaching for her._
> 
> _The flames were unimaginably hot, hotter than any dragonfire and it’s heat caused the water to boil and steam the further down the pillar of fire went. It kept growing larger, swallowing the darkness and sizzling the water away, releasing Daenerys from its heavy grip. She was bathed in the fire, the bright flames shooting the desire to live back into her veins._

She woke up with a gasp, launching upward as she caught her breath. Disoriented, she clawed at the ground, her fingers trying to grasp onto something for support. Overwhelmed with shock, Daenerys let out a broken sob. Her cry caused a large shadow to shift in the darkness and her eyes adjusted in time to see Drogon approaching her.

Drogon’s face came into view, his nose nudging at her chest as a rumble rose from deep in his belly. That was when she allowed herself to weep. She hugged his snout, his rough scales being the most comforting thing she could ever feel in that moment as waves of relief and sadness and confusion washed over her.

Lied to. Betrayed. Murdered.

Alive?

“Daenerys.”

A woman’s voice spoke. Daenerys took in her surroundings for the first time then and could now see that she was in a large cavern… remnants of dragonglass glimmering from the dim moonlight that was filtering in. Her mind was still foggy but she remembered this familiar cave. She had woken up at Dragonstone.

It took a moment for Dany to recognize the woman, the dancing light upon her face giving her the appearance of an illusion. “Kinvara…” her voice was barely a whisper, raspy and weak.

“Dry your tears, Daenerys.“ The Red Woman spoke in High Valyrian as she stepped closer to where Dany was crumpled on the floor. "Find your strength and you will rise again. This land is lost, Daenerys. They were at war for thousands of years before the blood of Valyria stepped foot onto it and they will war for thousands more.” Kinvara kneeled down, piercing eyes glancing between Dany and Drogon as she continued, “Leave, and when you do, never look back to the west. You set your ambitions on a throne of swords in a broken land when you are the last true daughter of Valyria. Rise again, and it will rise with you.”

Her mind struggled to process everything she was being told, Dany still reeling from all the memories that were just returning to her.

Jon Snow.

Trembling fingers reached up towards her chest, Daenerys dreading the sight even before she looked.

There in the center of her breasts was a tear in the fabric from the dagger he had driven into her heart. Her black dress was stained with her own blood. A guttural sound left her as the situation had finally hit her full force and the images of that moment flashed through her mind. He lied to her. He betrayed her. He kissed her while he drove a dagger into her heart. He dared look down at her with those guilty eyes.

She offered him everything and he killed her.

There was a sharp pang of bitterness and grief that sprung up before it wisped away like leaves in the wind. The more she thought of his face, the more she became detached from the old feelings she knew were there. Aware, but disconnected. She was herself, but not. That was a different her.

Her head rose, wet eyes locking on to the red woman as she said, “If I look back… I am lost.”

Kinvara gave a small nod, reassuring Daenerys as she continued, “The Lord of Light had guided me to Westeros. To end up in this very place. I know now that it was so we could meet again. He still needs you, so he brought you back.” She looked towards Drogon again, the magnificent beast eyeing her down. “His magic has been dying from this world. The decay began with the death of Valyria, now his power is but a small candlelight in the dark.”

“Valyria…” She spoke the name of her ancestors’ past glory. It had been a city she daydreamed about as a child every now and then. “Your lord wants me to restore Valyria?”

“Newer and greater. The rebirth of dragons. Rebirth of fire. He will guide you, Daenerys.” The woman placed her hood upon her head as she prophesied, “To quell the bubbling, smoking heart of hell you must go to the lands of always winter. To rebirth fire you need the heart of ice. To see an empire rise you must start with ash.” Kinvara turned to leave the cave, speaking in a reassuring tone, “May we meet again when the lord commands it.”

Daenerys had sat there for some time, thousands of thoughts running through her mind while it also felt like she felt nothing at all. Everything she had worked for all her life had been for nothing, but perhaps it would be for the best to abandon this land. She wondered and wondered. Had she been wrong? Did she deserve to die? Would Jon that good, kind, sweet, loyal man betray her otherwise? Varys and Tyrion betraying her… but Jon? Should she even be alive?

A glint of metal caught her eye and she glanced down, a thin dagger stained with blood was tossed a couple feet away from her. She reached out for it and picked it up. Her fingers traced the hilt of the knife, recalling that she looked down at it when it was lodged into her chest.  _She had gone too far._ She had been wrong. It was something she had already known, but she locked those feelings away because she had been pushed too far and made herself believe the ends justified the means. She needed to make herself believe that so she wouldn’t have collapsed under the weight of her remorse. She threw it all to the side.

His pained face haunted her.

“If I look back I am lost.” She murmured, staggering up to her feet and walking past Drogon, her hand running along the scales of his body as she exited the cave.  

The Daenerys that burned down Kings Landing wasn’t her. Not anymore. She was reborn through fire once more, shedding her past life like a phoenix. She was only bound to that Daenerys by memories now. Westeros would never have to see her face again.

She walked out onto the sandy beach of Dragonstone, looking toward the calm sea shimmering in the moonlight. When she was first born it was during the worst storm Westeros had ever seen on these shores… This time there was peace.

Drogon flew her up to the castle and she spent some time wandering the empty building. It would be the last night she’d spend inside the walls built by her ancestors. She pondered on who would claim this seat after her and if they’d treat it well. Regardless it wasn’t hers to worry over anymore, so she placed those thoughts aside as she prepared a bath for herself and stripped down, slipping into the scalding water to scrub away the dried blood and ash from her skin. She scrubbed and washed, scrubbed and washed. She wondered of Kinvara and her words. She wondered of Greyworm. She wondered what happened after her death. She wondered of the people of Westeros. She wondered of Jon–

If I look back I am lost.

The mother and son didn’t stay long at Dragonstone. Daenerys dressed herself in her winter furs and wore a simple braid while Drogon left to hunt for food, returning with his spoils in the early hours of the morning. They left as soon as they’d eaten, Drogon allowing his mother to cut a piece of his meal for the first time before he devoured the massive direwolf whole. She wiped the dagger off, wrapping the blade with a cloth before she slid it into her belt.

If I look back I am lost.


	2. Bride of Ice

Daenerys allowed her mind to drift as she rode on the back of Drogon, heading north to the Wall and then beyond. She had nothing to do during those hours but think. Think and reflect. Reflect and accept. Accept and change. It took awhile for the magnitude of her circumstances to set it, but when it did, Daenerys did not take it for granted. She only knew of one person that survived a knife to the heart. This was a miracle. This was magic. She wouldn’t squander it or allow herself to be blinded again. She had stopped being self-aware and self-critical and let her pride consume her, but that wasn’t who she was and that’s not what she wanted to be remembered by. She could now only do her best to leave the world better than how she found it, like she had always wanted. **  
**

They flew over vacant lands, allowing the duo to travel undetected throughout the morning and afternoon as the weather grew chillier the more north they went. When they finally passed over an unguarded stretch of the Wall she had Drogon land in the forest to rest his wings. They still had a ways to go but she suspected they could make it to the Lands of Always Winter by the end of tomorrow, even with the cold slowing Drogon down.

The last time she had flown beyond the wall she had all three of her children and her love for Jon had just ignited. How odd it was that all that had happened a few months ago and yet… It felt like an eternity. A different life. One where she was still the saviour, the hero people loved and fought for. The one who still had her friends and advisers that didn’t conspire to murder her behind her back.  _Sweet, innocent Daenerys._  A naive woman that thought she had stopped being naive as a child.

_A child…_  Her hand drifted over her abdomen at the contemplation. Whenever she had even considered that she was with babe she had blocked it out of reality.  _I can’t have children._  She had repeated it to herself whenever she was nude and happened to glance down at the small swell of her belly that had been forming. She had been telling herself over and over again now for over a month after she missed her second moon blood. Even if she had been pregnant, she did not want to think of the logistics of an unborn child’s resurrection or what kind of effect it would have. For all she knew her swell would collapse on itself soon.  _I can’t have children._ She thought of Rhaego and she could only feel terror at the idea that she would put another child through that again. Not again. _I can’t have children._

A dull pang of hunger brought her back to the present, causing Daenerys to sigh at the discomfort. Though hunger was a great inconvenience, it was also a reassuring reminder.  _She was alive_ **.** She was alive and she would eat to her heart’s content as soon as she retrieved what she came to the north for. She wasn’t sure what but she was sure that she would be guided to it. She just needed to keep flying north towards the eternal winter and she would find what she needed to obtain. Daenerys had no reason to doubt Kinvara’s words, not after all the faith and love the red priestesses had offered her throughout the years. She found it hard to believe in any gods, but there was something out there that was powerful enough to bring her back for some sort of purpose. This was the least she could do in return.

The sun began to lower in the sky when Daenerys was preparing to set off again. The days were shorter this far north so she wasn’t quite sure of the time, but she knew she wanted to leave this cold by the following morrow because neither she nor Drogon belonged in this frigid wasteland. He had flown off for a short time, presumably gorging himself on whatever lesser beasts he could find to replenish his strength like feeding wood to a fire to keep the flames going. She could already see the low temperatures beginning to effect Drogon, his dissatisfaction with being chilly clear to her.

As she was about to mount Drogon she heard the crunching of footsteps and a gasp behind her. Daenerys whipped her head around, her sharp violet eyes landing on a woman and young boy that had white rabbits slung over their shoulders, their expressions of wide-eyed silent terror easy to see even from the several yards away.

Daenerys immediately ran through her options and there were really only two of them: She either killed them to keep her whereabouts a secret, or she let them go. The decision wasn’t hard to make however, so she merely gave them one more glance before mounting Drogon and flying away northwest. She was tired of those terrified faces. She wanted love, not fear. Love like she once had in Essos. Dragons could plant trees. Fire wasn’t only destruction, it was also the origin of humanity’s growth. No more death if she could help it. Only birth and life.

It grew darker and colder the longer they travelled and though this mountainous winter land felt like needles on her skin, there was also a beauty Daenerys had never witnessed before. Waves of green and blue danced in the sky, the sight enchanting to her. The spectacle of lights was her only distraction from her fingers freezing within her gloves and her face going numb. She focused on the waves of light, let them guide her. She knew deep in her gut that she must, so she followed them to see where they were coming from, and it was only a little while longer until she spotted something down below.

It was as if everything in the surrounding area was created around the landmark, angled and leading towards its center as if the gods designed it so. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she glimpsed at what felt like the beautiful mouth of death, hesitating for a moment before pushing forward and flying Drogon directly to the horseshoe-shaped rock formation and touching down in the center of it.

Her teeth chattered as she slid off of Drogon, making her way to a circular formation made of blocks of ice that pulsed with what Daenerys could only describe as unearthly power. It was a feeling so strong that it could only be rivaled by when she first felt the stone eggs hatch dragons in a blaze of fire and blood magic. She had perceived magic before and knew that this was where she must be. She was drawn to the center of it, walking up to the block of ice and looking down at it with calculation. The power lay deep within. The heart of winter pulsed harder, as if fighting against her fire.

“Drogon.” She beckoned softly, her child approaching her albeit with hesitance. She could feel his repulsion to whatever was beating inside the ice, and so she was sure he took great joy in rearing up to blast it with his flames when she uttered the command, “Dracarys.”

He roared as he unleashed dragonfire onto the ice formation, his fire may have been weaker due to the climate chilling his body, but he was still mighty and so the blocks began to melt. He blasted it once, then twice, until finally there was nothing but a pool of shimmering water left in the ritual circle’s place. The colour was somewhat unnatural, as well as the way it reflected the colourful lights in the sky.

Daenerys stared at the pond, eyes drawn to the beauty of it as she pushed herself forward, stepping into the shallow waters and looking down at her reflection. At first she saw nothing, but the longer she stared she began to see visions on the surface, reflecting and dancing as the water rippled around her. She didn’t know what to make of anything she saw. Dreams of times long past, ancient and forgotten. A clash of ice and fire. She knew these stories. She had been told about them once before.

_“They were here, the children and the first men. They fought against their common enemy.”_

She felt herself getting lost in the visions, her mind drifting away as they tried to suck her in. It was only when she saw the Night King, his awful and familiar face snapping to look at her, that she broke out of her stupor with a gasp. It felt like he had reached through time and seen her, but the images on the water broke apart and disappeared as she overcame their grasp. Her breath shook as she recovered from his haunting gaze. _It was an ancient vision. It was in the past. He didn’t see you._ She repeated those words to convince herself of it. She felt in denial and yet she knew it was true. Dragons needed to exist, for there would come a time perhaps a thousand years in the future where they would be needed to protect the world once more.

Daenerys knelt into the pond. The water was cool as it soaked through her boots and pants and though she had always hated the cold, it felt right. Her hands reached down to cup the glimmering water, bringing it up to her lips to drink. It slid down her throat and she felt a magic seep within her veins before the liquid had even hit her stomach.

_The blood of the dragon. Bride of fire._  A voice whispered.  _The heart of winter. Bride of ice._

She had never been nothing.

* * *

Tyrion sifted through the pages of the tome Samwell had handed to him. A Song of Ice and Fire the young maester had named it and Tyrion couldn’t help but wonder if the title was fitting at all. There was some ice… for a moment, and there had been fire… that fizzled out. It wasn’t much of a song at all, rather it was an odd mish mash that didn’t rhyme or harmonize. There was no poetry to be found in it, and then it all vanished without a trace.

The small group that had gathered for the council stood up as Bran arrived, Tyrion greeting the king with a respectful, “Your Grace.” As did everyone else before sitting back down. It all felt so awkward and stiff. This was their first council meeting and Tyrion was sure that he would adjust to it all soon enough, and yet it still felt so hollow.

“We appear to be missing a Master of Whisperers, and a Master of Laws, and a Master of War.” The young king commented, glancing at the empty seats at the table.

Tyrion replied promptly, “Yes Your Grace, suitable prospects will be brought to you for an audience in the coming weeks.” He had a passing thought on why Bran would even need a Master of Whispers if he had knowledge far beyond any common human. Tyrion knew of the boy’s abilities.

“And Drogon?” Bran’s eyes shifted, concerned, “Any word?”

Samwell chimed in, “He was last spotted east, towards Volant–”

“–The farther away the better.”

The table exchanged a few more words with the young king before he left as quickly as he came, off to have some privacy as he searched for Drogon’s whereabouts. Tyrion wondered if it would do them any good prodding at the most lethal force alive and if it were up to him he’d prefer to just leave Drogon alone. Let the beast fly as far away as it’d like, as Bronn had said.

That wasn’t what Bran believed though. He felt like he was the only one that had the ability to control Drogon, or at least attempt to. Dragons had the strongest wills and it wouldn’t break from a simple warging, no, if he even wanted to try he’d have to work his way up to it. Start with lesser beasts first.

When Podrick had escorted Bran to his quarters and left him alone, Bran began to warg, entering the mind of a gull flying east in a large flock of seabirds. When he saw nothing he began hopping forward, warging from bird to bird, flock to flock, until he finally spotted what he was looking for. There off in the distance his eyes took in the sight of a massive winged beast flying eastward over the sea and Bran did his best to fly faster, trying to catch up with the dragon.

There weren’t many things that took Bran by surprise anymore considering he had information on everything as long as he knew to search for it, so when he saw the silver-haired queen riding on the back of Drogon alive and well he was left stunned. _A resurrection?_  He’d have to look further into it.

Bran cut off his connection to the seabird, returning his consciousness back into his room at Kings Landing. This change of events could cause many problems for the future of Westeros, or it could amount to nothing at all… He wasn’t quite sure, which was a feeling he had grown to appreciate oddly enough. Unpredictable things presented a challenge to his otherwise very stagnant state of mind and emotional state. Whatever Daenerys being alive would amount to, he didn’t feel the need to draw attention toward her for the time being. If she wanted to cause harm she would have, yet she flies further and further away from the people she would want revenge on if she so desired it. No, whatever she was planning on doing, that wasn’t it.

He had once caught a glimpse of an ancient city with massive stone towers and dragons flying overhead. A Valyrian princess had her back turned to him in his vision, intricate braids woven with gold chains and flowers in beautiful design.

Perhaps it hadn’t been a vision of the past at all.


	3. Champion of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so touched by all the positive reception this story has already received. I'm glad people are enjoying it! As the story progresses, chapters might get a little weird because of magical elements so I don't know if that's everyone's cup of tea though. Regardless I hope that I can give you guys an interesting and satisfying story.
> 
> Also I feel like I should mentioned that this fic will be using the show-canon Valyria as I am aware that the ruins are described very differently in the books. I will take some elements from the descriptions given in the books, but since this fic is based off of the show-canon the books aren't too relevant here.

The free city of Volantis looked beautiful from above with the sun beginning to set, far different from the cities in Westeros and much more familiar with what she had known her entire life. The air was hot and humid which was such a stark contrast to the cold, dry climate she had experienced during her weeks in the north. She breathed it in, her lungs coming alive and for the first time in many weeks she was able to truly feel an ounce of happiness. Daenerys couldn’t even be bothered with the sweat that was building up beneath the furs she wore, though she also couldn’t wait to adorn lighter clothing. It was something she had taken for granted before leaving Essos. She missed the heat now.

She circled above the massive city harbour, already hearing the distant yells and shouts from sailors below. Daenerys needed to gather her strength and make the Volantenes, especially the nobles, know who she was and know that their time was limited. She did not forget that Volantis was one of the conspirators that supported the Sons of Harpy, nor did she forget that there are five slaves for every free man in the city. While she may have many supporters in the form of religious servants and the enslaved, the powerful masters in this city would want her dead-- just like Meereen. Just like everywhere else.

The masters would be dealt with in due process, however for the time being she was in search of the temple of R’hllor. Though she wasn’t too familiar with the religion itself, years ago she had read and knew of its roots in Volantis when she studied the history of the city.  

Drogon roared before swooping lower, flying across the city to announce Daenerys’ presence in a display of power. As she approached the east end, a massive wall of dragonglass stood in her way as a means to protect the oldest part of Volantis, though it didn’t serve as much of a barrier when Drogon shot upwards and over to the other side.

A temple that rivalled the size of the Meereenese pyramids came into view, massive pillars and domes and buttresses displaying incredible design. At the tip of the temple was a large fire burning with ferocity, making it obvious to whom this site was dedicated to. There was a crowd of thousands gathered at the front of the building and she heard the screams mixing with shouts of awe as she landed Drogon on the steps leading up to the temple. Her eyes scanned the crowd, watching as even those that had been frightened began yelling and cheering in the city’s Valyrian dialect. This was… a surprising yet reassuring reaction. A reminder. Westeros may not want or need her, but there were many that were desperate for a change in their circumstances. _Remember your roots. Remember why you always did what you did._ When she was a child she had been yearning for a change, to be freed from her chains, and she had wanted to give that freedom to everyone else that sought it too.

“Volantene!” A voice shouted above the rest and Daenerys looked over her shoulder towards a man standing at the top of the steps, his face covered in tattooed flames. He must have been preaching before her arrival. “The Lord has finally led Azor Ahai reborn to us! Daenerys Stormborn, the champion!” Flames leapt from his fingers as he roared, and she was almost taken aback by his display of magic. “Her fire will be the one to drive the darkness out of this world!”

Cheers and yells were certainly not the way she had been expecting to be welcomed, but it was something that she needed though she dare not admit it. This was what it had always been about. She wanted to give people hope. She wanted to help. It had been an earnest and good desire before it became twisted by grief.

The evening had turned into night by the time Daenerys said her farewells to the Volantenes gathered outside and followed the high priest through the large temple doors for a more private conversation. As they entered her eyes were greeted with massive pits and golden stands, the orange light of their fires danced across looming statues and illuminated ancient artwork on the walls.

She almost got lost in looking at the interior of the temple, but she finally looked at the man and said, “Your name was Benerro correct?” She spoke in High Valyrian and noticed that the priest could alternate between the local dialect and the old form when needed.

“It is, your Grace.” The tall, spindly man had an almost off-putting presence, his appearance gaunt. “I am a high priest of R’hllor. I first saw your visage in the flames many moons ago. You are his chosen champion, the one that will push back the darkness.”

“The darkness was defeated-- I thought it was, at least. But I saw… things. Visions. I don’t know what to think of this talk anymore.” She replied, brows furrowing as she glanced over at a large fire contained in a metal pit in the center of the open hall. “Your god brought me back to rebuild Valyria, to have magic and dragons return to the forefront of the world-- or so I was told by the priestess Kinvara. I know that I can do it, but I’m not sure that I should. If it’s right. If I’m the one that should do it.”

He walked over to the burning fire she had been starting at, watching the flames as if gathering information while he spoke, "You were travelling down a path that might destroy the world, but you were also the one who helped saved it. You may think yourself a monster, but the world isn’t changed through soft-spoken words and caresses. That is the reality, and many innocents are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We already knew that non-believers would be cleansed by the thousands.”

She felt the sting of tears threatening to fall from her eyes but she willed them not to. How could he be so indifferent? Is this how she had sounded to Jon? “It was wrong.” Her voice had a slight shake, “What I did.”

“It is also reality.” He repeated the sentiment. “You cleansed the land of its immorality just as the mountains cleansed Old Valyria. Though I believe it was already written in stone, I see that it eats away at your spirit and I pray that you find peace with it. My words may seem insensitive to you but I simply see things as small parts of a grander destiny for us all. What you did brought you here, and that’s all that matters.” There was a change in his tone when he finally said, “There will always be creatures that lurk in the darkness. Fire made flesh is the only thing that can keep them at bay. That’s why you are alive today."

A silence hung over them as Daenerys stared at the side of his face. For a moment she could understand why Jon chose to do what he did, and the thought crushed her already scarred heart. She could not bring herself to trust this man, but he was her best ally for the time being. Her face solidified, void of vulnerability as she replied, "If I am to rebuild Valyria I will need many hands."

"The servants of the Lord of Light will support your cause, as will a large portion of the slaves in Volantis if given the option. They've been waiting to see you in the flesh for years. Stories of your liberating have travelled across the Free Cities and the triarchs of Volantis have been fearing their fall ever since. They’ve even tried to destroy the temple because we preach in support of you." He spoke with almost a scoff.

Her focus stayed on the flames, beginning to see visions in them. Vague images of mountains crumbling and falling away, fire raining from the skies, and clear waters becoming dark and smoking. "I cannot promise a peaceful life here in Volantis if they revolt and kill their masters. Revolution always threatens destabilization. I learned it in Meereen and the other cities. What I can promise though, is that every slave of this city has a home in Valyria if they so desire it. Whoever kills their master can find sanctuary under the dragon and never be harmed again. The hands that build Valyria will be those of free men."

He watched her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost a look of relief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. “The triarchs of Volantis will fall. Every night I’ve preached to thousands that have been burning for a change but have held back over the fear of being left stranded once on the other side. You’ve given them a choice now, and many will take it. His fire will cleanse this city like it did the others.”

She finally turned away from the flames, looking over at Benerro, “There’s a problem though isn’t there. Are the servants of this temple not bought as slaves or taken in as offerings? I don’t understand why you so strongly support my cause when your temple ranks will fall apart as well.”

"They are. As am I.” He gave a small gesture to the tattoos covering his face. “There were many that were bought to serve the temple, and many that willingly came and sought refuge in these walls. Our temple does not condone slavery, but we have had to speak the language that the city and its people understand. We’ve bought many servants, but they are not slaves to any living man. The lord’s servants have all been waiting for the chance to overthrow the triarchs. If any of the high priests were slave masters we would have never supported you."

Daenerys had always been uncompromising with slavery so she could not fathom his approach. There were thousands in this city that loved and believed in this man though, so perhaps she could be willing to understand his methods. Not everyone had dragons or an army large enough to take a city through force alone. "It doesn't matter the circumstances. Every single man, woman, and child will be free in Volantis, including the temple’s servants. You will give them the option to leave their servitude and allow them to take it without any retribution."

"As his champion wishes." He chuckled. “I promise you with the lord as my witness. I am on your side. Volantis will join the Bay of Dragons and adopt its policies.”

For now she could only trust in his word. She still held a healthy skepticism for the man, but he also gave her enough reason to believe in his motivations. She nodded in understanding before reaching her hand out, offering it to seal their alliance, “May it be done with fire and blood if necessary.”

He nodded, his hand meeting hers halfway, “Fire and blood.”

She was offered a place to rest in the temple that night but opted to stay with Drogon outside of the city. She changed into clothes that were offered to her however, ridding herself of the winter furs unfitting for Essos while keeping her ever present riding pants and boots. Before leaving the temple she had put on a deep red gown with billowing sleeves, cuts in the thighs, and a deep scoop neck. A large sash of the same colour was wrapped from her waist up to her shoulders and served as a head-covering.

Valyria was not too far off from here and she was already preparing herself for the task ahead of her. Like many others she had heard awful stories of what lurked in the ruins of Valyria. She heard of living shadows, strange creatures, bubbling waters, red skies, and stone men. Everything was telling her that the land would be revived and built anew-- the priests, the flames--  so she had the confidence that it would come to pass. It was just a matter of _how_ … Was the heart of winter that Kinvara spoke of enough? Would the red priests and priestesses be enough to clean and control whatever magic that had been free to roam the abandoned ruins? She could only keep pushing forward and then deal with any barriers in her way once she reached them.

 _The rebirth of dragons…_ She dreamed wistfully. There was nothing that could every replace Viserion and Rhaegal, but to bring new dragons into the world… Whenever she thought of it her heart was set ablaze with bright fires. They called to her blood.

* * *

 

Benerro wasted no time in implementing his plan. He sent hundreds of servants out into the night to send whispers across the city, letting them know that Daenerys Stormborn that had conquered and freed the Bay of Dragons from its masters has come for the triarchs of Volantis next with the words of fire and blood. By early morning the streets were red and fires were set to ancient buildings belonging to the Old Blood. The Fiery Hand of the temple took up arms against any city guards that opposed the rebellion and were joined by men wielding knives, stones, and anything else they could get their hands on. The swarm was unstoppable and Daenerys could only watch from her vantage point in silent wonderment. The city had been a massive pyre, unlit and waiting. All that was needed was a spark that would set it blazing. The black shadow that had flown over the city the day prior was the people’s hope and the death omen of any unyielding masters.

The smoke had created a small overcast by midday. Daenerys drifted out of her light sleep and took the sight in. The majority of the city was left untouched, but most, if not all the larger buildings had been burned down and their ashes covered everything around them in white. It was perhaps the first time any of the citizens had seen anything akin to snow. _Queen of the Ashes_ , Daenerys scorned. _If I will be remembered as Queen of the Ashes, then let it be like this._

She stood up and mounted Drogon, flying down over the city and circling it as liberated men cheered at the triumphant roars of the dragon. During her flight she noticed that the temple had been left standing as one of the only ancient buildings unscathed by the rebellion. She circled the city twice to commemorate the people’s victory before heading towards the bay and off towards Valyria.

  
_Come. Build a new world with me. Join me if you wish_.


End file.
